


The King of New York

by Dredfulhapiness



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Musical References, The Friendly Neighborhood Exchange 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:54:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25224208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dredfulhapiness/pseuds/Dredfulhapiness
Summary: Tony shrugged. “We could go sometime,” he said, putting a book on the shelf.Peter blinked. “Huh?”“Yeah, Morgan’s old enough to sit still that long, and Pepper’s been wanting to go, so you and May might as well come along.” He said it so casually. 'You might as well come see a Broadway show with us' like the price of two tickets wouldn’t equal one of Peter’s Midtown scholarships.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 11
Kudos: 77
Collections: The Friendly Neighborhood Exchange





	The King of New York

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GeekintheCorner](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeekintheCorner/gifts).



> This was written for the Friendly Neighborhood Exchange for @geekinthecorner (both on here and there! go shoot them a follow!)

Peter found the playbills shoved in a box eloquently labelled  _ hall closet shit.  _ They were splayed amongst yearbooks and coats, and a few puzzles that looked like they had been collecting dust for years before the move. 

The covers on a lot of them were cracked, either with age or mismanagement. The pages were dog-eared, or the layers of the pages were separating. 

“You saw Music Man on Broadway?” Peter held one of the Playbills up, on the cover, a young boy was playing the trombone. 

Tony looked up from where he was loading up the bookshelf across the room. He squinted to see what Peter was holding up, then realization crossed his face. “Ah,” he said, face returning to normal, “Yeah, my mom was into all that theater crap.” He waved his hand.

Peter shuffled the mini-stack of Playbills. _ Les Miserables, Merrily We Roll Along, Starlight Express, Sunday in the Park with George, Chess, Singin’ in the Rain, Carrie.  _

“You went a lot,” Peter said, flipping through the pages to look at old ads for cologne or hair care products. 

“We needed something to do when my dad was working out of town.” 

Peter continued flipping through the stack. Some of them were newer:  _ The Humans,  _ and  _ Jersey Boys,  _ and--

“You’ve seen  _ Hamilton?”  _ Peter held that playbill up, too. Instead of the normal yellow Playbill logo, the top was rainbow. He’d seen it in June. 

“Huh?” Tony frowned, like he was thinking. “That’s the rap one, right? Yeah, it was Pepper’s Christmas gift one year.” 

Peter stared at him, eyes wide.  _ “And?” _

“And?” Tony raised an eyebrow. 

Peter rolled his eyes. “How was it?” 

Tony shrugged. “It was fine,” he said. “Long.” 

_ “Long?”  _ Peter balked at him. “It’s  _ Hamilton.” _

“It’s overrated. The main character sucked.”

Peter clicked his tongue. “Money is wasted on the tasteless,” He said dramatically, clutching the playbill to his chest. 

Tony shrugged. “We could go sometime,” he said, putting a book on the shelf. 

Peter blinked. “Huh?” 

“Yeah, Morgan’s old enough to sit still that long, and Pepper’s been wanting to go, so you and May might as well come along.” He said it so casually.  _ You might as well come see a Broadway show with us  _ like the price of two tickets wouldn’t equal one of Peter’s Midtown scholarships. 

“Oh,” He said, rubbing the back of his neck. “That sounds like a lot of fun, but I’m not sure that we can--”

“I’m paying for it,” Tony said before Peter could even finish the sentence. 

“Oh, that’s really kind, but I couldn’t--”

“I’m paying for it,” Tony repeated, still half-focused on putting Pepper’s books on the shelf in the right order. She had a certain way she wanted them, and Peter was decently sure Tony was putting them on the shelf wrong. He was decently sure Pepper separated by author rather than subject matter. Peter kept his mouth shut. If Tony wanted to unpack the apartment so poorly, that was on him. “-- did you hear me?”

Peter snapped his attention away from the bookshelf. “Sorry, what?”

“I said pick a show. I’ll get us tickets.” 

—

Peter spent a long time mulling over the offer. It wasn’t the kind of gift he’d normally accept (too expensive and fancy), but it also wasn’t the kind of opportunity he got often (Broadway was highly inaccessible even for people who lived in New York). 

He’d opted not to bring it up again. He’d leave the offer in limbo. 

He thought that would be the end of it. 

“So, Peter,” Pepper said. She was eating a sandwich over the kitchen sink, her tablet lit up on the counter beside it. “Which musical are we seeing?” 

“Uh,” Peter said, cocking his head. There was a smear of mayo at the corner of Pepper’s lips. “What?” 

“Tony said you wanted to see a show,” She said. “What are we seeing?” 

“Oh, um…” Peter looked between Pepper and the door to the garage. “You know, I haven’t put much thought into it.”

But clearly Tony had, because he’d told Pepper. Peter had thought the conversation a throwaway, but…

“Well, let one of us know,” Pepper said. “It sounds fun. We haven’t gone since Morgan was born.” 

—

Peter had a list of excuses as to why he couldn’t accept the offer. 

“It’s a bad idea for both of New York’s biggest heroes to be preoccupied for the night,” he pointed out over dinner. He spoke with his hands, the meatball on the end of his fork wobbling dangerously. 

“We’re both preoccupied right now,” Tony deadpanned. 

“Our phones aren’t off,” Peter answered. “Friday is constantly scanning news systems. I mean, if something happens while we’re  _ at a show--”  _ he said  _ at a show  _ in the same voice one would say  _ at key largo.  _

“Bruce owes me a favor,” Tony said. “I’ll ask him and to babysit if we need, and I’ll ask Rhodey to keep an eye on the city for a night. Pick a show.” 

“What if the show’s not worth the money?” Peter asked during a late night. Harley was curled up in the corner, his jacket being used as a pillow against the wall, a book open on his chest. He was snoring softly. Peter spoke softly enough not to wake him. 

Tony shrugged. “Then it’s not,” he said. “Kid, I’m a billionaire. I can afford to hate a musical. Just pick a show.”

“What if the public sees all of us out together?” Peter asked as he held Morgan’s bike seat steady. She was pedaling along, shaky. Not quite sturdy enough for Peter to let go yet. “They might make connections. Figure out I’m… Y’know.” He motioned like he was firing webs.

“I treat my employees to stuff like that all the time,” Tony said. He spun the disconnected training wheel. It squeaked. “Well, Pepper does. I just happen to be there sometimes.”

“And my aunt just happened to come along?”

“Your aunt is dating the head of security,” Tony reminded him. “Pete, it’s fine. Just do me a favor and--”

“Pick a show,” Peter finished. “Got it.” 

\--

There were a lot of options. Peter’s eyes scanned the billboards. He sat on a roof overlooking Times Square, sizing up the different shows being advertised. The usual shows were there,  _ Wicked,  _ and  _ Chicago,  _ and  _ Phantom of the Opera.  _ He chewed on his sandwich.  _ Chicago  _ and  _ Phantom  _ weren’t exactly age appropriate for Morgan. 

They could see one of the Disney princess musicals, he considered. It would be safe for Morgan, and probably fun for the adults. It felt like a waste, though, to pay so much money to see a story and hear songs that they all already knew, Morgan especially. 

He pulled his mask down, and dropped down to the ground to toss out his sandwich wrapper, still hung up on his paradox of choice. 

“Wanna see a show tonight?” Someone shoved a flyer into Peter’s hands. 

“Uh,” he said, because he was clearly not a tourist. He looked down and, yep, his spider suit was still there. When he looked up, the guy was already peddling his flyers to a different group of passing pedestrians. 

He was just going to toss it. That is, until the title caught his eye. 

\--

“It’s another historical musical,” Tony said, unenthused, while flipping through the program.

“And it’s Disney,” May said, pleased. 

Tony sat to Peter’s right, Morgan on his left. Around them was the murmur of people waiting for the show to start.

“It’s a good show,” Peter promised Tony. “And it’s not too old for Morgan.” 

“And it’s about… newspapers?” 

“Christian Bale is in the movie,” Peter supplied. 

_ “Batman?!”  _ Tony asked. 

“I would have said Patrick Bateman,” Pepper said. 

“That’s a musical, too,” Peter chimed in. 

“Weirdest medium ever,” Tony said, and Peter couldn’t even bring himself to argue. He was right. It was. 

“Imagine the business card scene, but sung,” May said. Happy snorted. 

“What?” Morgan asked, and Peter shook his head at her. 

“Look,  _ Newsies _ is a classic,” Peter said in a final defense of his choice. “It’s about a band of misfit kids taking down the big bad evil millionaire.”

“Millionaire?” Tony raised an eyebrow. 

“Watch it, Stark,” Peter said. “They’re coming for you next.” 

Tony didn’t get a chance to retort. The lights dimmed, and an announcement was made, and the overture played and Peter settled into his seat, content, and also thrumming because he could feel the strings rattle his muscles and  _ oh my god he was seeing a Broadway musical.  _

—

“So, what did you think?” Tony fell into step with Peter, just behind the rest of their group. He put a hand in the middle of Peter’s shoulders. Ahead of them, Morgan was holding May’s hand and jabbering excitedly about the tap number. Happy and Pepper were debating dinner plans. 

“It was great!” Peter said, and  _ okay  _ maybe he was a little starry-eyed. They stepped out onto the New York streets and it smelled like garbage, and sweat, and the subway, and  _ home.  _

Peter pulled Tony in for a hug. “Thanks, Mr. Stark.” 

Tony patted him on the back awkwardly. “No problem, kid,” he said. 

They pulled apart and caught up to the rest of their family. The sky was a familiar blue-black, and the pavement shone with streetlights, and Rhodey hadn’t even been  _ needed  _ and Peter understood when Morgan called, from atop Happy’s shoulders, “I’M THE KING OF NEW YORK!” 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This was so much fun to write! I love indulging my inner theater kid. What I wouldn't do to be seeing a broadway show right now....
> 
> As always, I can be found on Tumblr @dredfulhapiness, and please make sure to go follow @geekinthecorner !


End file.
